Body Heat
by Lieutenant Caine
Summary: Some things you don't learn at the police academy. Rating is now an M.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N It was not my orginal intent to start yet another fic this close to the end of the year, but the cold temps here in the northern part of the US sparked an idea. Neither was it my intent to create a true "crossover" fic as I have only seen one or two episodes of CSI: New York and CSI: Las Vegas. Simply stated, I don't know much about those two shows except character names, but Athena insisted. This fic starts tame and will end up very M rated as you might suspect from the title. If you're not old enough to read it, don't.**

**Body Heat**

Steel gray skies hung overhead casting a somber mood over the entire panorama of city that stretched in what seemed a limitless view from the window of Mac Taylor's apartment. Cold permeated the air making the heat from the floor vents seem small and defenseless against its stinging bite. Mac shivered a bit and looked down at his watch. Still 2 hours yet before he was to meet his counterpart from the Miami CSI unit at the airport. A terse grin spread over his face. It was 7:30 in the morning on a blustery cold, winter day and they were due to have snow before noon. Miami weather was a far cry from the cold, stark winters in New York City.

"I hope they wear their long johns," Mac muttered to his cup of coffee, cautiously taking another sip of the scalding hot liquid.

He turned from the window and shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom, relishing the idea of a steaming hot shower to chase away the chill that clung not only to the air, but to his body as well. Had he really possessed eyes in the back of his head, as was the popular belief among his co-workers, he would have seen the first tiny flakes of snow drift lazily past the window.

They were the advance guard of what was to become one of the worst blizzards in the history of that storied city.

One hour out, and 32,000 feet in the air, Lieutenant Horatio Caine and his ballistics expert, one Calleigh Duquesne, were still asleep, swathed in soft blankets and lying in the comfortable reclining seats of the first class cabin. The flight attendant paused for a moment before gently shaking the shoulder of the sleeping redhead. Her light touch brought about an instant reaction. Her wrist was suddenly caught in an iron grip and she found herself looking into blazing blue eyes. For a moment she was speechless, then she recovered her ability to talk and gasped.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I tried not to startle you…"

Horatio visibly relaxed and released her wrist. He sat up and spoke quietly to her.

"No worries. I owe you an apology. Did I hurt your wrist?"

"No…well…just a little…but it's…it's only bruised," she stammered, trying valiantly not to show just how much he had bruised her.

"Let me see it," he said softly, speaking in a low tone so as not to waken the sleeping blonde beside him.

Gingerly she held out her hand and let him take it in his for inspection. He grimaced when he saw the already reddening flesh and the deep, hand-shaped impression on the skin.

"I'm sorry. I hurt you. What is your name, Ma'am?"

The soft, silken rumble of his voice was soothing and the flight attendant found herself wanting to trust this man who carried a badge and reacted with the speed of a striking cobra when awakened.

"I'm Kiara Nelson."

"Kiara, I'm Lieutenant Horatio Caine, from Miami. This is my ballistics expert, Calleigh Duquesne. We're on our way to New York City to meet with the head of CSI there on a case that spans two states. I won't be home for several days, but when I get home, I want to know that you have contacted my home office and arranged for them to pay for whatever medical attention you need for that wrist."

"But it's not…"

Horatio smoothly interrupted her. "Kiara, I want you to be seen by a doctor. Can you do that for me?"

Something about his voice pulled the words from her mouth before she had time to think about them. "Okay, Sir. I'll go to the doctor. You're…you're from Miami?"

"That's right." He smiled and she caught her breath.

"I'm originally from Pompano Beach."

"Practically neighbors."

"Yes, almost."

A soft warning chime sounded as the "fasten seatbelts" light blinked and she started as though caught doing something inadmissible.

"I woke you because we are about to start our preparations for descent into New York City."

"Thank you Kiara. And remember, have that hand checked out."

"I will, Sir." She continued down the aisle to the next set of seats and Horatio turned his attention to the still sleeping form of Calleigh beside him.

For a moment he simply let his gaze wander over her relaxed form, from the soft tangle of golden hair that covered her face and the pillow, to the gentle motion of her breathing, down along the slender curve of her hips and all the way to her dainty feet that were encased in sensible, warm leather boots. He had to smile at that. Normally she wore wicked stiletto heeled shoes or boots that seemed to heighten the impact of her presence whenever she was around. However when the trip to New York City became reality, she traded the fashion statement for practicality, thus the tame footwear. A genuine smile creased his face and he shook his head in tender affection before reaching out and closing a hand warmly over her blanket covered shoulder.

"Calleigh. Calleigh wake up."

His voice was soft and low, pitched for her ears alone. She stirred and moaned softly, but did not quite reach full consciousness.

"Calleigh…Sweetheart. Come on let me see those beautiful green eyes of yours."

A sleepy groan came from her lips and she tried to roll over away from the beckoning sound of his voice, but he denied her the motion by gently forcing her over onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him with no small trace of annoyance.

"There'd better be a good reason why you're waking me up, Horatio," she mumbled.

"How about…we are almost there?" He smiled and watched the effect of that announcement.

"Really?" Calleigh yawned and stretched, but still did not sit up until the intercom crackled to life and the pilot's voice filled the air.

"Ladies and Gentlemen we are beginning our approach into New York City. Please make the appropriate preparations for our landing. We should be on the ground in approximately 30 minutes. Oh and…I hope you brought a coat. It's snowing. Welcome to the Big Apple."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Lacy flakes of snow tumbled hither and thither, dancing in the icy wind that scudded across runway 21 at JFK Airport in New York City. The snow had been steadily falling since about 7:30 that morning and already there was a significant accumulation along the sides of the runway and the grassy areas.

Calleigh peered out of the window of the airplane as they taxied to the gate and shivered slightly, missing the mild Miami weather they'd left behind hours before.

"Of all places, our suspect has to come here to hide out," she grumbled. "Why couldn't he have run to California or Hawaii?"

Horatio smiled at that remark. He knew New York City well, having done a stint there as a homicide detective years before. He knew too the icy bitter cold of winters in the Big Apple and had dressed appropriately for the intense weather he expected they'd encounter.

"Now, Calleigh. We aren't even out of the plane and you're fussing. Take it easy, Sweetheart. And please tell me you brought something a little heavier than that light jacket you're wearing."

"Yes, I did, but it's packed in my luggage. Probably my luck that mine will be the bags they lose."

"Still cranky from being woke up, aren't you?" Horatio chuckled.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that, Horatio." She replied.

The jumbo jet rolled to a stop and the flight attendant opened the door of the airplane allowing the passengers to disembark. Horatio and Calleigh walked down the ramp and out into the waiting area of the terminal.

A tall, stern-looking man wearing a black leather bomber jacket and matching gloves stepped forward to meet them. Reaching out a hand, he clasped Horatio's and said, "Lieutenant Caine? Mac Taylor. CSI New York."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mac. I've heard good things about you and the team here." Turning he introduced Calleigh. "This is my ballistics expert, Calleigh Duquesne."

"A pleasure, Ma'am," Mac said with almost a smile. "Shall we?" he motioned toward the concourse that would take them to the baggage claim area, talking as he walked.

The two men fell into conversation about the case that had brought Horatio and Calleigh up from sunny Miami to snowy New York.

"I understand that you've tracked your man here, Lieutenant."

"Yes, we lost him at Miami International but caught his trail again when his alias showed up on the passenger manifest of a flight bound for La Guardia yesterday. We didn't want to take the chance of spooking him so we came in to JFK. Hopefully we've not lost too much time in pursuit."

"And this man's calling card is…" Mac left the statement opened ended as though he wasn't sure Calleigh should be hearing their conversation. He looked sideways at the petite blonde walking beside them and cut his eyes back at Horatio.

"She's fully part of my team, Mac," Horatio said with just a trace of ire in his voice. "Nothing kept back from her."

"I understand, Lieutenant. Just verifying."

"His calling card…," Calleigh interjected smoothly, "…is removal of the victim's left hand and foot after they have been viciously beaten and strangled. All of his victims are young blonde women." She beamed her blinding smile at Mac Taylor. "Did I leave anything out?"

"I believe that covers it, Ma'am." He nodded deferentially toward Calleigh acknowledging her as a full player in the case. To Horatio he said, "I think our man is one and the same. He did the same thing to 2 women here six months ago and then he just vanished. We had a lead on him, but he disappeared. We knew him as Armand Sayers."

"In Miami he goes by Alfred Sager alias Ted Stykes. The Stykes alias was the flag that alerted us to his trip here."

The men continued talking as they exited the doors of the main terminal. Even Horatio, who was familiar with the brutal cold of New York City weather was a bit unprepared for the stinging bite of the wind that assailed them the moment they left the shelter of the building. Calleigh huddled deeper into the jacket she wore and stood as close to Horatio as unobtrusively as she could, positioning herself behind his larger bulk to avoid the worst of the wind.

An NYPD cruiser pulled up to the curb and Calleigh gratefully climbed into the back seat, glad to be out of the brutal cold and snow. Horatio followed her into the car and without any hesitation wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side and the warmth of his body. "Should have worn a heavier coat, Sweetheart. Stay close and you'll be warm enough until we can get your big one out of the luggage."

"Thank you, Handsome." She said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. At least her feet were warm in the fleece-lined boots she wore.

Looking in the visor mirror at the couple in the backseat, Mac raised one eyebrow at their near embrace, but said nothing.

Some 30 minutes later they arrived at the Downtown Hyatt Regency and Mac escorted them into the lobby of the lavish hotel. He took care of the check in procedure and gave them both room keys.

"You have a three bedroom suite. I hope that's acceptable."

"It's fine, Mac. Now if you don't mind we'd like some time to freshen up and then we can meet you for an early lunch and a true debriefing on this case. Will 12:00 work for you?"

"I'll see you then," Mac nodded and left.

"Not much of a talker is he?" Calleigh quipped, watching as Mac Taylor disappeared through the glass doors back out into the wintry precipitation.

"No, but his solve rate is almost as good as ours. When you're that good you don't have to say much. The work speaks for itself."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The elevator doors slid smoothly open and Horatio and Calleigh stepped out onto the 25th floor of the hotel. Down one hallway and two doors to on the right was their suite. Horatio slid the card through the locking mechanism and swung open the door. Calleigh was struck silent at the lavish appointments secured for them by their host. In the center was a large kitchen/living area. On either side of that were two large fully furnished sleeping areas. Their luggage sat neatly in the middle of the small foyer, having been delivered by the hotel staff for them ahead of time.

Calleigh gathered her bags and started toward the room on the left.

"Here, let me help you, Sweetheart." Horatio said and closed his hand over the handle of the largest suitcase.

Knowing his deeply ingrained sense of chivalry, Calleigh allowed Horatio to take the heavy bag from her grasp and carry it for her through the open door to the room she had chosen.

"Just put it on the bed, Handsome. I'll unpack everything when we get back from lunch. All I need out of it right now is my heavy coat. I can freshen up from my overnight bag."

Horatio nodded and started back toward his side of the suite, but stopped when Calleigh laid a hand on his arm. A rarely seen, breathtaking, full smile blossomed over his face when she stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Handsome."

"My pleasure, Sweetheart." He winked at her. "Now…as you can probably tell, I need to shave. I'll be out in 10 minutes."

**A/N The dialogue here threatened to get tedious, so I just ended it…rather abruptly, I know, but I had to transition into the next part of the story. My apologies if it seems a bit stilted. The cold has slowed Athena down somewhat.**

**H**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

For several seconds after Horatio disappeared behind the bathroom door, Calleigh sat on the edge of the bed lost in thought. Her gaze was focused somewhere outside the window on the falling snow and she was unaware of the slight rattle of the door handle as it was stealthily tried by someone on the outside of the room. The handle moved slightly and then slowly returned to its normal position and was still.

The sound of Horatio's tuneless humming as he prepared to shave penetrated the slight daze that had wrapped numbing fingers around Calleigh's mind and she smiled broadly. An impish little idea sprang to life in her head. Slowly opening the bathroom door, she slipped up behind Horatio, who had taken off both his shirt and undershirt, and wrapped her arms around his waist, stroking her hands over his bare chest.

He grunted in surprise and dropped his razor, spinning around to catch Calleigh in an iron grip.

"Calleigh Marie Duquesne!" he snapped. "I could have cut my throat, you little imp."

"We couldn't have that, now could we, Handsome?" she teased. She wriggled out of his grasp and retrieved the dropped razor, waving it in front of his face.

"And just what do you plan to do with that?" He asked.

"I plan to finish your shaving for you. You're taking too long."

"Calleigh…" he warned."

"Trust me, Handsome," she cooed.

She took his can of shaving cream from the counter, dispensed a large dollop of the thick lather into her palm and then proceeded to smooth it over Horatio's face in a near caress. He leaned into her palm and murmured softly in enjoyment. They so very seldom had the freedom to touch each other that it was a singular treat to be close to her and feel the soft touch of her hand.

"Mmmm. You are hired, Sweetheart."

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't started shaving you. I might slip…" She grinned wickedly at his worried expression and kissed the tip of his nose. "Relax. You know I won't hurt you."

Moving her body close to his, she pressed against him, pushing him back against the counter. He spread his legs and let her settle between them, settling his hands with easy familiarity against the luscious curves of her hips. She began moving the razor with light, sure strokes over his face and neck. Each stroke revealed a clean, soft patch of skin and Calleigh smiled at her handiwork. Horatio let his eyes drift shut and surrendered to her touch, loving the easy intimacy of the moment. Finally the last patch of stubble submitted to the razor and Calleigh set it aside. She ran a warm, damp cloth over Horatio's face and removed the tiny traces of shaving cream that still clung to his skin. Then she leaned in and kissed him, slowly and tenderly.

"Calleigh," he breathed her name into the kiss and pulled her closer to his naked chest. "What time is it?" he mumbled while he worked open the front of her blouse. Calleigh pulled back long enough to steal a glance at his watch lying on the counter.

"It's 10:15," she managed to gasp out just before his warm hands glided up her ribcage to cup her breasts.

"That's plenty of time," he growled.

His mouth closed over hers in a scorching kiss and Calleigh moaned with pleasure.

Without letting go of her, Horatio turned them around so that Calleigh's back was toward the counter and the mirror. He eased the already unbuttoned shirt off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Next he swiftly unbuckled her belt and slid it from her pants. He unzipped them and pushed them down her legs, leaving her clad in only her bra and panties. Then he slid his hands down her back and under the soft curves of her bottom, picking her up and setting her gently on the counter behind them. With his hands not needed to hold her, he was free to let them roam her body. Slow deliberate caresses over her back and shoulders and down along her thighs left Calleigh breathless with pleasure, and trembling with need. When the meanderings of his fingers brought his hand between her legs, Calleigh whimpered in anticipation and spread her legs wider for him, giving him easy access to pet and stroke her through the soft blue satin of her panties.

"Let's see…" he murmured enticingly as he kissed his way down her neck, "…let's see if we can turn up the temperature a little."

"Burn, baby, burn," Calleigh whispered, licking her lips in a provocative manner.

"Calleigh…"

His hand began to stroke firmly and surely, sending pleasure burning through every nerve in her body, and Calleigh writhed with each stroke. The clear blue of his eyes darkened and clouded over with arousal and desire as he watched Calleigh respond to his touch. The desperate writhing and squirming of her body sent white-hot need screaming through his veins and he groaned out her name.

"Calleigh…Calleigh…you are incredible…"

Dazed green eyes looked up into his and Calleigh managed to gasp out, "Please, Handsome…I need you inside now…"

Haste roughened his motions as he grasped her soaking wet panties and pulled them down her legs, dropping them in the floor. Then he jerked the belt from his own pants and after unzipping them he kicked them and his boxers aside.

"Lean back a little, Sweetheart," he said.

Calleigh scooted close to the edge of the counter and then leaned back, balancing herself on her hands behind her. Her hair fell in a soft golden shower behind her and her body lay stretched out and open, ready for him to take.

Stepping close to Calleigh's beckoning body, he grasped her hips, held her firmly, and with one swift stroke, plunged deep inside.

"Mmm…now…take me hard and deep, Handsome," she encouraged him.

He needed no other enticement. Withdrawing almost completely from her silken moisture, he paused for a second and then drove back into her.

"Ah...ahhh," Calleigh moaned.

"Hmmm…is that what you want, Sweetheart?" He continued driving into her, deep and sure.

"Oh, god yes."

The steady stroking of his hard length deep inside her body soon had her trembling at the edge of an earth-shattering climax and Calleigh whimpered weakly.

"Horatio…Horatio…"

One more thrust and Horatio felt her shatter around him, felt her inner walls clench and convulse, gripping him tightly. The intensity of her release washed through her and into him and he groaned out her name while his own pleasure roared through his body, leaving him spent and weak and grateful that Calleigh was half sitting, half lying on the counter. He doubted he could have borne her weight after the debilitating rush of pleasure that had overtaken them. She was in no better shape. Her hands clung loosely to his shoulders and her head lolled back at an awkward angled.

Finally Calleigh roused first and raised her head to look at her lover.

"I think we sufficiently raised the temperature, Handsome," she teased softly, as she wiggled a little in an attempt to sit more comfortably on the hard marble counter top.

"You think so?" He smiled and helped her down to stand on the floor.

He gave her a tender kiss and then stepped back.

"We probably should get cleaned up and head out for the station. I told Mac we'd meet him at noon. It's already 11:00. By the time we fight traffic and find a place to park it will definitely be 12:00."

"Pout." Calleigh cooed as she gathered her rumpled clothes from the bathroom floor. "Always making me work, aren't you?"

"Behave yourself, woman. Now go get dressed…you're distracting me, you know."

Calleigh blew him a kiss and danced out of the bathroom, only to come flying back seconds later with a stunned, terrified look on her face.

"Horatio…Horatio…the door!"

Horatio took one look at her, scrabbled for his 9mill that he'd left lying on the counter and sprinted to the living area of the suite.

The door stood wide open. Attached to it was a note with a stick figure drawn on it. The stick figure was obviously female with long hair. It had been drawn with both the left hand and foot severed and lying to the side. The words scrawled at the bottom were chilling:

_Welcome to New York, pretty one. You're next on my list._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Horatio's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the crude drawing on the note that had been tacked to the door of their suite. It had been written on hotel stationery, had no signature, and had obviously been deliberately scribbled to hide the identity of the author. Without touching the threatening missive, he inspected every inch of the door, checked the lock for signs of forced entry…there were none. He scanned the floor about the threshold, looking for any evidence left behind by their unknown intruder. Again there was nothing to indicate that anyone had been there. Turning back to Calleigh he started to speak but immediately swallowed the words when he saw the still shocked look on her face.

"Come here to me, Sweetheart." Momentarily, Lieutenant Caine, CSI took a back seat to Horatio Caine, lover and he drew her into his arms. She said nothing but he felt the tiny tremors that ran through her body as she nestled against his still bare chest. "No worries, Calleigh. I've got you and nothing will harm you while I'm here."

A tender kiss on the top of her head pulled her face away from the solid warmth of his body and she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, Horatio. Shouldn't have let it rattle me like that. I'm okay. And I'm staying on this case." She said the last quickly as though to cut off any chance that he would tell her she should take herself off the case since she had been threatened personally.

"Calleigh, I don't know if that's wise after this."

"I'm staying on this case." She said firmly.

He looked at her, saw the steely determination flare in her eyes and was reminded again of how often he had to admire her grit. She would back down for nothing and no one. He nodded and smiled.

"Okay. You're on the case, but…you will not be out of my sight. Understood? If I have to be away from you for any reason, there will be an NYPD officer with you…"

"But Horatio…"

"No buts, Sweetheart."

The look on his face left her in no doubt as to his seriousness.

"Okay. I'll tolerate it, but only for your sake, Handsome."

"Thank you, Ma'am. Now, I need to call Mac. I'm afraid our lunch will have to be delayed a bit. He and his team need to see this as soon as possible."

He pulled his phone from his pocket and was soon speaking to Mac Taylor.

"…That's right, Mac. We'll be here."

An hour later, the New York team finished their investigation of the scene. The note had been bagged and tagged and sent to trace. The door and door frame had been dusted with bright pink dust and checked for fingerprints. The floor had been checked for fibers and other trace evidence. In the middle of all the activity, stood Mac Taylor, quietly directing his team, noting this and commenting on that. Horatio stood next to him, occasionally responding to a remark.

At length, both men turned to Calleigh.

"Ms. Duquesne, I'll leave the decision of whether to stay in this suite or move somewhere else up to you. Personally, I think you'd be safer now in another location." Mac's voice was impartial.

"No. We stay."

"Calleigh?" Horatio's tone was puzzled.

"If we stay we can draw this creep out of hiding. He's expressed an interest in communicating. Let's communicate with him. As for safer somewhere else, he found me here didn't he? It's obvious he's been watching us, possibility since before we left Miami. I say we play his game, try to draw him out and beat him at it."

"You're setting yourself up as bait?" Horatio's voice was laced disapproval.

"Why not? I'm more able to protect myself from him than someone else would be. I have my.45, I have NYPD and I have you, Horatio. There's very little danger."

"I beg to differ." Horatio's voice was now flat and carried that tone that Calleigh knew well. "The danger is multiplied because he knows you're law enforcement."

"She may be right, Lieutenant Caine."

Mac's comment earned him the piercing glare of an obviously irate Horatio Caine.

"How is that, Mac?" Horatio snapped.

"She has the training and the knowledge to outwit this guy. I will have a uniform with her at all times, or a plainclothes if you and she would rather."

"What I'd rather is for her not to be used as bait."

Calleigh realized that Horatio was behaving as Horatio and not as the ice-blooded CSI that needed to be processing the case.

"Excuse us just a moment, Mac," she said quietly and placing a hand firmly on Horatio's elbow, she turned him away from the group and walked him toward the second bedroom.

"Handsome listen to me." Her familiar endearment signaled him that she was speaking as his lover and not as his ballistics expert. "If it were Natalia placing herself out there as bait, would you be as protective, my love?" She smiled at the protest that was born and died on his lips when he realized she was telling the truth. "You'd assess the risks, fuss a little and then approve her request. Why should it be any different with me?"

"You know why it's different, Calleigh," he growled. "I can't let you…"

Calleigh interrupted him. "Horatio, you know we agreed never to let "us" interfere with our professional lives."

"Calleigh…" his voice rumbled threateningly.

"Horatio Caine," she countered. "I'm doing this, and you will back me up. Trust me, Handsome. It will be okay."

Sensing that he was weakening to her logic, she continued with her verbal attack on his stubborn resistance. She decided to play her cards a bit differently and pressed close to him, fusing her slender body against his in an intimate way. "Besides, if I'm in any danger, you can swoop in, rescue me and I can reward you very handsomely…" Her tiny hand slid down his chest and then skimmed over his belt provocatively. This hissing intake of breath he made let her know that she'd hit her mark verbally and otherwise.

Finally Horatio shrugged off her teasing touch and glared down at her with a mixture of ire, anxiety and desire fighting for possession of his expression.

"Very well. But I am going on record as being strongly opposed to this."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N **

**NO, I AM NOT COMING OUT OF RETIREMENT. **

**I simply have a guilty conscience about leaving this story unfinished. Don't get your hopes up, my dear readers. When this one is done, it is truly over, and there will only be re-posted older stories. **

**H**

Seated around the conference table later that afternoon, Mac and his team discussed the particulars of how Calleigh would appear as bait for the deranged serial killer.

"We know he prefers blondes, and we know he knows Ms. Duquesne is here. The note is proof of that. Just how he knows is another question," Mac said.

Horatio sat at the far end of the table next to Calleigh, his eyes narrowed and glinting unpleasantly. He was still not comfortable with the thought of his ballistics expert placing herself in such danger. _Admit it Caine_, he thought. _You don't want her doing it because she's the love of your life and the thought of losing her scares you more than anything else in the world. _That thought made him angrier still, simply because he had allowed it to breach the professional barrier he usually kept firmly in place when he and Calleigh were both on duty. The flow of conversation swirled around him and over him without actually sinking into his mind, until he became aware that Mac was looking at him expectantly.

"What do you think, Horatio?" Mac repeated.

"I…um…" Horatio stopped, mortified at having been caught not paying attention at such a crucial time. "My apologies, Mac. I was distracted. Care to repeat that for me?"

Mac's eyes lingered for a moment on Horatio's face, assessing the older man's ability to disassociate from the personal and focus on the professional. Finally he spoke.

"We've assigned Officers Stanten and Porter to shadow Ms. Duquesne. They will be with her round the clock when you are not at her side and she will be under constant group surveillance by a team of my best marksmen. If this guy gets too close they can take him out without much risk to her."

"Sounds like a plan," Horatio answered, "but I still don't like it."

He grunted softly in surprise when Calleigh, seated next to him, clenched one small hand over his thigh and forced his attention to her face. He looked at her and read her lips as she mouthed to him, "Trust him, Handsome."

For a moment his eyes clouded with anger, but he forced it down and nodded once before turning his eyes away from her.

The meeting concluded and Horatio stood to leave but stopped when Mac spoke quietly but very firmly. "Lieutenant Caine, a word."

Blue eyes met grey in a clash of iron wills.

Silence cloaked the room. One by one the NYC team filed out, well aware of the grey fire dancing in Mac's eyes. Finally the door closed behind the last one and Mac, Horatio and Calleigh were left alone in the conference room. Tension vibrated in the air until Mac broke it with a terse question.

"Lieutenant, how certain can I be that you'll do your job…professionally?"

"Mac…" Horatio growled, his voice a lethal purr, "I'll do my job as professionally as anyone on your team if not more so. Just understand one thing. If anything happens to Calleigh I'll hold you personally responsible."

"Spoken as a lover and not as a veteran Lieutenant," Mac observed aloud.

Calleigh's eyes widened at the open challenge from Mac and watched to see how Horatio would respond. It was seldom that he ever encountered anyone with as steely a determination as his own. On the rare occasions when it happened the resulting battle was epic to say the least.

"Let's get one thing straight, Mac," Horatio rumbled, "my relationship with Ms. Duquesne is none of your business…"

Mac cut him off mid sentence.

"…unless it interferes with MY business. And at the moment my sole business is catching a serial killer. If you can't accept the fact that your _**ballistics expert**__, not __your__** lover **_volunteered to draw him out, then perhaps you need to take YOURSELF off the case instead of her."

Mac stood face to face with Horatio, refusing to back down from the growing volcanic fury that played over his face.

"Can you do it, Lieutenant? Can you disassociate from her as your lover and let her simply be a professional and let her do her job?"

For a moment, Calleigh honestly thought that Horatio was going to take a swing at Mac Taylor. His jaw muscles convulsed with barely contained fury. His hands clenched into tight fists. His entire body settled into fight mode.

Horatio's voice, when he finally spoke again, was sharp and brittle. "Do you really need to ask that, Mac?"

"I think I do…" Mac left the sentence unfinished.

"You have nothing to worry about. I know my job," Horatio hissed and then turned and impaled Calleigh with an icy glare.

"We are leaving, Ms. Duquesne." His exaggerated use of her professional name signaled the extreme level his temper had reached and Calleigh shivered slightly.

Stepping next to her, Horatio laid a possessive hand at her waist and rather forcefully guided her out of the conference room. No words were spoken, and Calleigh didn't need any to know that Horatio was furious beyond reason. Only one time before had she seen him in such a foul temper and that time had shaken her with the intensity of the anger she had seen unleashed on the unfortunate Chaz. Wisely she kept quiet and let him propel her from the room and down the hall toward the main lobby.

The taxi ride back to their hotel was uncomfortably silent with Horatio glaring out the windows at the passing snowy scenery, until Calleigh finally spoke softly, "Mac was right, you know…"

Horatio's head snapped around and he snarled, "Don't lecture me, Calleigh. I've had just about enough of…"

"Oh, Handsome…" the soft tone of gentle scolding in her voice brought him up short in his intended tirade.

In spite of the interested eyes of their driver who kept watching them in the rear view mirror, Calleigh scooted over till she was flush against the side of Horatio's body. She placed one hand over his heart and the other at the side of his face, stroking softly with her fingertips. A tiny ripple of response was her reward and she pressed her advantage.

"Horatio, my love…I know you're worried. I know you're being protective of me… but please trust me. Trust Mac. He's as much a professional as you are and he was right. You were responding as a lover, my lover, not as Lieutenant Horatio Caine of the Miami Crime Lab."

"Calleigh, I…" the look in her eyes quelled the heat of his anger and he relaxed slightly at her gentle pleading expression. "…I love you. Oh how I love you," he breathed.

Calleigh's eyes smiled at him and she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"And I love you, Horatio."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The temperature had fallen noticeably by the time the taxi deposited Horatio and Calleigh back at their hotel building. Flakes of snow blew almost sideways in a strong, biting north wind, and Calleigh wrapped the collar of her coat more snuggly around her face, shielding her tender skin from the stinging lash of the cold. Horatio stopped for a moment as they neared the sliding glass lobby doors and looked up into the swirling maelstrom of winter weather that assailed them. His brow narrowed, and his eyes seemed to reflect the same ominous grey of the clouds glowering over the heads of the towering steel and glass structures around them.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let's get inside before we turn into CS_Icicles…_"

For a moment, Calleigh was taken aback at the deliberate pun Horatio had made, but then realized that for all the humor latent in that remark, he was being truthful. The cold was intense and growing more so with each passing second. She gratefully stepped into the warmth and brightness of the lobby, only too happy to leave the cold and snow outside and out of reach.

Across the street, steel grey eyes devoid of feeling watched Calleigh's every move, lingering on the shapely curves of her hips and the enticing flow of gold hair that moved about her shoulders. A shudder ran over the man's face and he nervously licked his lips. _Soon, she'll be yours and you can do more than look,_ he promised himself mentally. A passerby accidentally bumped into him and disturbed his wicked reverie. The result was no less than shocking. With a quiet snarl of animal rage, the man with the dead eyes jerked his hand from his coat pocket and plunged a knife straight into the abdomen of the unfortunate pedestrian. Quickly then, without a second's hesitation, and without disturbing the other people walking by, he settled the dying man in a seated position against the wall of the building next to them as though he were helping a drunken comrade, pressed a newspaper into the lax hands and melted into the alleyway. In thirty minutes time, all evidence of his passage was completely erased by the falling snow, leaving only the cold and stiff body of his victim as testimony of his having been there at all.

XXXXXXXXXX

Calleigh had just stepped from the shower and was wrapping her satin robe around her when there came a soft knock on the door of the suite. Horatio, lying in bed with a case file, looked at the door and quirked one russet eyebrow. They were not expecting anyone at this time of evening. Cautiously he eased up from the bed and slipped his gun from the nightstand, placing it in the pocket of his silk robe. He stepped to the door and called out, "Identify yourself."

"NYPD, Sir. Officer Stanten reporting as ordered by Detective Taylor."

Horatio peered out the peep hole of the door and saw the man holding out a gleaming NYPD badge, saw the uniform he knew well, and with a visible sigh of relief, he unlocked the door and opened it, allowing the young man to step inside.

"Officer Stanten, Lieutenant Caine, Miami. It's nice to meet you."

"And you, Sir. I understand that I and my partner are to shadow Ms. Duquesne…"

"Yes, yes…but only when I'm not with her."

"I understand, Sir. Will you be needing anything from me then this evening?" Something in the younger man's tone of voice arrested Horatio's attention and set a faint sense of unease tingling through his mind. The young officer was nervous…very nervous.

"Ah, no not this evening, son." Horatio's tilted his head and stood in his trademark hands on hip stance and looked more closely at the young man. His blue eyes scanned the officer from the top of his curly brown hair to the tips of his department issue boots and back up again, lingering on the weapon that rested securely at his left hip. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he took a step toward the young man.

"Your hand is bleeding. What happened?"

"What? Oh…my hand. I shut it in the car door…stupid of me, I know. You'd think at my age, I'd know how to close the door without cutting my hand." Officer Stanten smiled, but the emotion didn't quite reach his eyes. For a split nanosecond, Horatio found himself looking into a dead black void, chilling in its intensity, and then it was gone leaving him unsure if it were merely a trick of the light.

"Do you mind?" Horatio asked, reaching slowly for the officer's right hand.

"No need, Sir." Officer Stanten answered quickly…too quickly. "I'll get it tended to at the precinct. Just wanted to stop in and do a visual check in with you so you'll know who you're dealing with." He nervously wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and then said, "Any chance I could meet Ms. Duquesne before I go, just so I'll know who I'm supposed to be shadowing?"

"I don't see why not," Horatio said slowly. "Calleigh, are you decent?" he called over his shoulder toward the direction of the bathroom.

"I'm coming, Handsome," she answered, her voice sounding slightly muffled coming from behind the bathroom door.

Horatio's eyes remained trained on the face of the young officer, watching him with the intensity of a laser as Calleigh walked into the living area of the suite. The moment Officer Stanten laid eyes on Calleigh, Horatio felt a chill go down his spine. He watched in growing alarm as a startling transformation came over the young man. Officer Stanten's eyes grew dark with some nameless emotion, and a menacing feral expression crossed his face giving him a predatory look.

"It will be a pleasure to shadow you, Ms. Duquesne." He said in an odd voice. "A true pleasure I assure you."

Then as if a switch had been suddenly turned off, his face cleared and he spoke to both Horatio and Calleigh as he placed his left hand on the door to leave.

"I'll say good evening for now. But I'll be close at all times... very close."

Then he turned and left quietly, closing the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Almost immediately after Officer Stanten left, Horatio was on the phone with Mac Taylor.

"Mac. Horatio. Go with me on this."

"Fire. I'm listening."

"I need everything you've got on Officer Stanten."

"Rush?" Mac's voice was curious, but he didn't ask any other question.

"Extreme." Horatio answered.

"On it. Do you have a laptop?"

"Yes. My email address is-," Horatio said tersely, flipping open his computer and powering it on.

"Give me five and I'll have his file sent to you."

"Thanks, Mac."

"Not a problem. Anything I need to be concerned about?"

"Not sure, Mac. Just being cautious."

"Keep me in the loop."

"I will."

Horatio flipped his phone closed and peered intently at the screen of his laptop, waiting for the information to arrive at his inbox. Calleigh walked over to the table and stood behind him, her hands resting on his back. Wicked tension vibrated up through the knotted muscles and Calleigh began to softly massage his shoulders.

"What's wrong, Horatio?"

"Something about that officer bothers me, Calleigh. Don't tell me you didn't sense it too," he rumbled distractedly, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk.

"Come to think of it," she said, " he did behave rather oddly, didn't he?"

"Odd is putting it mildly, Cal. He was terribly nervous…and that cut on his hand…Did you see the way he went all defensive when I asked if I could look at it?"

Calleigh's response was lost on Horatio since the expected information from Mac Taylor arrived at the same time she answered him. Quickly he opened the file and began to peruse the contents. Page after page scrolled past his keen eyes and Horatio studied every tiny detail of the man who was Officer Terry Stanten. Over and over he scanned the information in front of him, searching for any link to Florida or their serial killer. He was just about to dismiss his anxiety as merely that when a fragment of a sentence caught his eye. He went back and read it again, his heart rate increasing with every word.

"Calleigh, Sweetheart…look at this. Terry Stanten was adopted."

"Yes, I see that, Horatio, but what…"

"Don't you see? Look at the name of his adoptive father." Horatio pointed at the name on the screen. **_Theodore A. Sage. _**"Stanten is using a derivative of his adoptive father's name as an alias to hide his true identity. _Ted Stykes… Alfred Sager…_ It fits, Calleigh. It fits."

"Well that didn't take long. Okay. So what do we do now? Let it play out?"

"I need to let Mac know what we've found."

At that moment, the lights flickered and dimmed, then died completely. The quiet background noises of the heater and other sounds normally taken for granted faded away, leaving a deafening silence in the air. Calleigh's eyes went wide and her mouth opened in a little O of surprise as she stared at Horatio.

"Easy, Sweetheart," he soothed, rising quickly to go to the window and peer out into the swirling whiteness of the storm. Sharp crystals of ice scoured the window with a harsh scratching sound as they flew by, borne on the wind's fury. "Rolling blackouts, more than likely. The snow has probably downed some power lines. We should be back in business in no time. "

Looking at the strained expression on her usually calm face, Horatio held his arms out to her and smiled. "Come here to me."

Calleigh nestled into the shelter of his arms and held him tightly. Even though the power had been out only seconds, it seemed that she could already feel an increasing chill in the air.

"You've never been in a blizzard before, have you Sweetheart?" he murmured, kissing the top of her golden hair.

"No. We didn't get much snow in Louisiana, definitely nothing like this. And we sure don't see this kind of weather in Miami."

"Good thing, too," Horatio chuckled lightly. "That would be bad for business at the beach."

He bent his head to kiss her and then drew up sharply when his glance happened to stray to the door of their suite.

_With no power, there was no way to effectively lock the door!_

**_A/N _Yes, I know there would be the old fashioned dead bolt on the door, but work with me here...work with me. LOL.**

**H**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

An immediate sense of foreboding settled over Horatio even though he knew that the backup generator would restore at least the lights in a short while. He did not at all like the idea of being at the capricious whims of a New York blizzard when there was a demented serial killer stalking Calleigh; a serial killer who was posing as one of New York's finest in uniform.

Setting Calleigh away from him gently he went to the door to insure that the old fashioned steel dead bolt was in place, and then he took the precaution of edging a chair up under the door handle. It would not make opening the door impossible, but it might slow someone down enough to buy them precious seconds.

Calleigh, catching his demeanor of seriousness, sat down on the edge of the couch, withdrew her weapon and began to check it for preparedness. She made sure she had a full clip and one round chambered, and then thumbed the safety off before returning it to her holster.

Horatio saw her preparations, and nodded his head, commenting quietly, "Good idea, Sweetheart. We have to be ready for anything."

"Do you think he knows we're on to him?"

"I wouldn't bet against it," Horatio answered with a frown on his face. "This guy may be clinically insane, but he is brilliant enough that he's eluded police in two cities for several years. My bet would be that he knows we suspect something and he will either go back underground or will make his next move very soon."

As he talked, Horatio checked his own sidearm. After readying it to his satisfaction, he pulled his cell phone out and flipped it open and glared at the battery indicator. The indicator showed two bars. He dialed Mac Taylor's number and listened as static hissed and crackled over the line. Mac's voice came through faintly.

_Horatio…(static)…you and…allieh…(static)…kay?_

"Mac, you're breaking up, so I'll talk fast." Horatio spoke rapidly. "The killer is officer Stanten, Mac. Officer Terry Stanten."

_How…(static)..sure? (static)…best man I've…(static)…years…_

"Mac, go back through his file and look at his adoptive father's name…"

The static increased and drowned out Mac's voice entirely before the phone went dead. Horatio snorted in irritation and then snapped it closed and tossed it on the table. It was useless to them. Now they were very much cut off and on their own in the situation.

Outside the wind increased its vicious howling, swirling around the towering steel and glass buildings like some living monster determined to force its way inside. Moving to the window, Horatio watched the snow, allowing himself to be momentarily mesmerized by the maelstrom of chaotic whiteness on the other side of the double paned glass. He had just lifted a hand to edge the curtain farther aside when he heard a sound at the door.

Spinning around, he drew his weapon and aimed it before calling out, " Who's there? Identify yourself."

_Hotel staff, Sir. I've come to check that everything is okay with you and the lady._

"We're fine." Horatio answered, still holding aiming his 9mill straight at the door.

_I'm sorry, Sir, but I've had instructions to visually verify the well being of our guests. Could you please open the door?_

"I need to see some ID." Horatio said. "Slide your ID badge under the door so I can see it."

_Of course, Sir._

There was a slight rustling sound from the other side of the door and then Horatio saw the employee identification badge as well as a state of New York driver license slowly emerge into view. Swiftly he knelt and picked up the two items, examined them minutely and then slowly thrust them back under the door.

"Okay, I'm going to open the door slowly, and here's what you are going to do. You are going to stand against the wall on the other side of the hall. I'm going to step out and talk with you and you will stay where you are. Do I make myself clear?" Horatio's voice left little room for argument and the man answered that he understood the directions.

Calleigh, who was standing just to the left of Horatio with her .45 trained on the door, started to say something but stopped when Horatio drew his finger across his neck in an urgent sign for her to be silent.

Gripping his weapon firmly in his right hand, Horatio reached with his left hand and carefully moved the chair from under the handle. Then he turned the handle, opened the door, and carefully stepped out into the hall. The young hotel employee was standing against the wall on the other side of the hall just as Horatio had directed him. In a flash, Horatio knew that something was terribly wrong. He barely had time to register the look of abject terror on the young man's face before his ears heard the sound of the shot.

Searing pain screamed through his body as the bullet plowed into his side. He staggered and went to one knee. His vision blurred and dimmed. Just before he lost consciousness, he saw the red hole appear between the young man's eyes and then he slumped to the floor, descending into a deep well of darkness.

Calleigh, hearing the shot, screamed out his name, "Horatio!"

Momentary indecision gripped her and almost cost her her life. Another bullet whined overhead and burried itself in the doorframe, sending her scrambling for cover, slamming the door behind her and hastily shoving the chair back into position. Now she was relatively safe, but Horatio was still outside, unconscious and seriously wounded.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Calleigh leaned weakly against the door for a moment, regaining her composure. Her mind was awhirl with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, one tumbling after another. By instinct, she slid her phone from her back pocket and dialed 911. She didn't even wait for the dispatcher to ask what the emergency was; she simply began shouting directions as soon as the connection was made.

"This is CSI Calleigh Duquesne from the Miami crime lab. I have an officer down! I repeat, **officer down! **We need back up…fast."

"Okay, Ma'am, I need your location."

"We are in the Hyatt Regency hotel on the 25th floor, suite 54. My Lieutenant has been shot, in the abdomen I think, and he needs immediate medical attention. The shooter is an Officer Terry Stanten. Please have NYPD put a BOLO out on him.

"We've got an ambulance and NYPD rolling Ma'am."

"Hurry, please. He's losing a lot of blood."

"They're on their way, Ma'am."

Calleigh broke the connection and stood for a moment by the door, then made a snap decision. Judging from what she had seen during the frenetic seconds of activity, the poor bellhop was dead, but Horatio was still alive, although seriously wounded. She had to find some way to get him back into the room without endangering herself. Carefully edging the door open she peered out into the hall. Both Horatio and the dead bellhop were lying motionless on the floor. A grisly bullet hole stared out from between the young man's eyes and judging by the size of the entry wound, Calleigh guessed the gun Officer Stanten had used was a .45. A crimson stain on the carpet beneath Horatio's chest continued to grow larger as Calleigh watched.

Gripping her gun tightly, she eased out into the hall little by little, each inch of progress she made a triumph of courage over fear. Her eyes continually darted from one of the hall to the other, expecting at any moment to see Officer Stanten reappear and begin firing at her.

The hallway remained empty.

Finally, she reached Horatio's side and laid two fingers alongside his neck. For a second, she felt nothing, then finally she felt a slow, weak pulse beating under her fingers. Relief flooded her veins, making her slightly dizzy, and heaved a sigh of thankfulness. He was by no means out of danger, in fact the opposite was true, but at least he was still alive. She reached one hand and tenderly smoothed back the lock of hair that had fallen down over Horatio's face.

"Hang on, Handsome. Help is coming. NYPD is on the way, and so are the paramedics."

She was surprised to hear a low groan in response.

"Horatio…Oh thank God…"

_Calleigh _

"I'm here."

_Not safe out here…coming back…go back in…room_

He coughed and struggled for breath.

"What do you mean, Horatio? He's coming back? Oh god, I've got to get you back inside..."

_Too heavy for you…_

"Nonsense. After all the fights I've had with my brothers, I know a few things about leverage."

She leaned down over him and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before whispering in his ear.

"I'm sorry, Handsome, but this is going to hurt…really bad."

He was so weakened by blood loss and the effort at speaking that he did not respond.

She eased his 9mil from his grasp and placed it into her waistband, then she maneuvered herself behind him and gently slid her left arm under his left shoulder and arm and then up over and across his chest to clasp his right shoulder. He groaned once and turned pale, then slumped into a dead faint.

"Okay, Handsome, that's probably better anyway. You won't feel the pain if you're out. Now here goes."

She readied herself and leaned backward, pulling steadily on his inert body. He only slid a couple of inches across the bloody carpet before Calleigh was forced to stop, panting from the exertion. Again she tugged on his body and again moved him a few inches closer to the safety of the room. By the time she managed to pull him the four feet across the hallway, she was gasping for breath, and her arms were trembling from the strain of moving him across the carpet. Carefully then she eased her arm from around his shoulder and gently laid him on the floor. She turned to the door and was reaching into her pocket for the key card when she felt the cold steel of a gun muzzle kiss the back of her neck.

"Hello, Ms. Duquesne."

The voice slithered over her skin and left her shivering with revulsion.

"Officer Stanten." She said, slowly turning around to face him.

A maniacal grin gashed his mouth and his eyes burned with madness.

"Did you really think I'd leave without getting what I came for?" He lifted his right hand and cupped the side of her face, caressing her slightly with his thumb. The left hand, holding the gun to her temple was rock steady.

"What did you come for?" Calleigh asked in a calm voice, steeling herself not to flinch away from his touch.

"Oh, I think you know what I came for. I promised you I'd be close…Now with him out of the way…" He leaned in and pressed himself close to Calleigh, pinning her between his body and the wall.

Calleigh closed her eyes and turned her head away. His lips grazed her cheek a second before his right hand closed like a talon on her jaw, forcing her head back around to face him.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you, young lady!"

Calleigh raised calm green eyes to look into his and only barely suppressed a shudder. The insanity that clouded his mind was plain to see glittering there in his gaze.

"That's better. Now you are going to finish dragging him inside, save me the work."

He roughly jerked Calleigh away from the wall and shoved her toward Horatio's still form.

Calleigh knelt at his head, and once again slid her arm under his shoulder and half lifted, half dragged him the rest of the way into the room. When Horatio's feet cleared the threshold, Officer Stanten closed the door and stood there looking at Calleigh.

"You know what I'm going to do, don't you?" He leered at Calleigh. "I'm going to finish him…finish him and make you watch."

"No!...No…please…"

Her words morphed into a scream as Stanten turned and pumped two more bullets into Horatio's limp body. Wearing an evil smile he turned to Calleigh and pulled a razor sharp Marine issue K-bar knife from within his department issue jacket and brandished it in her face.

"Now…Now…pretty one…It's just you and me. Are you ready for some fun?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Mac frowned as he considered the day's developments. Lieutenant Caine's request for information about one of his officers would not have been on a whim. Mac knew at least that much about the man who was a legend in CSI circles nationwide. Apparently Horatio had found information that had eluded even the sharp eyes of New York team, and he needed to know exactly what that information entailed. Quickly he pulled up the personnel file on Terry Stanten and began to read. Twice he read through the entire file before his gaze stalled on the biographical information about Officer Stanten. A chill spread through his body when he read the name of the adoptive father, _Theodore A. Sage…ALFRED SAGER/TED STYKES. _Truth punched him in the gut and caused him to suck in a shocked breath. The man was using his adoptive father's name to create an alias. He was the serial killer. That was what Horatio had found. He jerked his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Horatio's number. No response, not even voice mail.

Icy fear coated his veins with the knowledge that he had given this man the job of shadowing Ms. Duquesne. He might as well have advertised for her murder. He jumped up from his desk and grabbed his coat from the wall hooks by the door.

"Bonasera!" he called.

Stella came out of her office at a brisk trot, the tone of Mac's voice lending speed to her steps.

"What's up, Mac?"

"You are with me. We're headed to the Hyatt Regency. Welfare check on Lieutenant Caine and Ms. Duquesne."

"I don't underst…"

"No time, Stella. I'll explain later. I just hope we aren't too late already." His words were clipped and sharp, matching the strides he made as they headed out toward his car.

The swirling snow and wind made travel difficult and more than once, Mac muttered curses under his breath as they struggled toward the Hyatt Regency. Twice they slid precariously close to the path of an oncoming vehicle and both times Stella squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to hear the wrenching screech of metal and the shattering of glass. Both times, Mac was able to manhandle the car back into the right lane. Luck was not with them the third time, and Mac only barely managed to yell out, "Brace, Stella!" before the approaching car swerved wildly and slammed into the side of them.

Glass rained in on them and Stella felt the stinging bite of a million tiny shards as they tore into her unprotected face. She felt the jolt as the seatbelt locked and held her in place, heard the rending metal, and then heard the silence descend as both automobiles stopped moving. She shook her head to clear it, and forced herself to breathe calmly. Then she turned to look at Mac.

He was sitting there, both hands on the wheel, his head resting against the headrest, eyes closed, not moving.

"Mac? Mac, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But I walk from here." He spoke without opening his eyes.

"What? We just had a very bad wreck, Mac. You need to…"

"I need to get going. Stanten may already have Ms. Duquesne."

"Officer Stanten? Wasn't he shadowing her? Why wouldn't he have her, Mac?"

"Stella, he's the serial killer we've been after for all these months."

"Oh…My…God…"

Mac opened his eyes and reached to open the door of the car. He got out slowly, shaking the glass from his coat and looked at Stella over the top of the car.

"You stay here and call in the wreck. Check on the people in the other car. I'll go on alone"

"You sure that's safe?"

"No, it's not safe, Stella. But I placed Ms. Duquesne in this danger, now I've got to do something about it."

"I understand. Just be careful."

"Will do."

Mac reached back into the car and keyed the radio. "Dispatch, this is Detective Mac Taylor. I am in route to the Hyatt Regency on 98th and Croft Street. Requesting backup."

"_Detective, this is dispatch. We received an "officer down" call from that location just 5 minutes ago. A CSI Duquesne requested an ambulance and backup."_

"I'm on my way."

Mac turned up the collar of his coat, and shoved his gloved hands deep into the fleece lining. His feet were ill shod for such a trek, but he would have to ignore the numbing cold. At least two lives were at stake on his account, perhaps more, and he had no time to think about personal discomfort. Taking one last look at Stella, he started off in the direction of the Hyatt Regency, three long, snowy blocks away.

XXXXXX

The knife swayed in front of Calleigh's eyes and she swallowed hard, determined not to let this man have the pleasure of seeing her plead for her life.

"What's the matter, pretty one? You don't want to play? I hate it when they don't want to play. They always scream and try to run and that hurts my feelings." Officer Stanten seemed to be withdrawing into a different personality, that of a very young child.

Calleigh seized on the idea of exploiting that fact. Keeping her voice as calm as possible, she said, "Why didn't they want to play with you, Terry?"

"They said I was strange. They were mean to me. Every time I went to a different home, the kids there said I was funny and weird." His voice now carried the unmistakable tones of a hurt little boy.

"I tried to fit in, but they wouldn't let me. The meanest ones were the prettiest ones. Why are the pretty ones always so mean? Their long blond hair (the hand not holding the knife tangled itself in Calleigh's golden locks painfully tight), their pretty blue eyes… I didn't mean to hurt Caroline…I only wanted cut off a piece of her hair to keep for myself, but she screamed and tried to knock my knife away. I really didn't meant to cut off her hand, but she screamed and it scared me."

Chills ran up and down Calleigh's spine. Nowhere in any of the files she'd studied had there ever been a Caroline mentioned as a victim.

"Terry," she said quietly again. "Terry…who is Caroline?"

"Caroline was my foster sister."

"Terry…did you…did you kill her?"

The lightning swift change of personality was dizzying and Calleigh barely had time to register the change as the look of childish petulance morphed into towering rage.

"How dare you ask me that question!" Stanten roared. He pressed the tip of the knife under Calleigh's chin and she felt it pierce the skin. Tiny droplets of blood fell on her shirt.

"You're just like all those other blonde bitches. Asking too many questions. I ought to kill you right now."

This time the knife slid in a gruesome parody of a caress along the side of her neck, and Calleigh felt the keen edge leave a razor thin cut. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Keeping his grip on her hair and keeping the knife pressed tightly against her throbbing pulse, Stanten forced her to walk backward toward the bed. Even though she knew she was in mortal danger she kept quiet. Not even when she fell backward on the bed did she utter a word.

"You know, you're different from all the others. They all were babbling with fear by now, but you're different, so I guess I have to come up with something special for you. First I think I'll cut off your hand, and then your foot and this time I'll make it special. I'll cut off your head too. You'll be my prize trophy."

He lifted the knife and laid it against the tender skin of her wrist, exerting just enough pressure to break the skin and leave a thin ribbon of red to course down her arm.

Unseen by either of them , Horatio stirred weakly and opened his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Agony screamed through Horatio's body at the simple act of opening his eyes. His entire torso felt on fire from the three bullets that had torn through him. _What... How… Where am I? _he thought hazily. His hand moved feebly and his sluggish brain identified the rough threads of carpet beneath his questing fingers. _Carpet…I'm…on floor. Why …on floor? _The darkness that shrouded his vision parted slightly and he stared at the ceiling above him, wondering again how he had ended up on the floor. More cobwebs shifted and memories stepped from behind them, filling him with horror. _Stanten…I was in… hall…shot…Calleigh…oh my god…CALLEIGH! _Fierce determination rose up and began goading him. _Are you gonna lay here Caine? Calleigh needs you! That lunatic has her in his clutches… Get up…ignore the pain and get up!_ He tried to lift his head from the floor to orient himself, but his head seemed anchored by a mountain. The effort cost him a spasm of fiery agony and he groaned softly. Breathing raggedly, he lay there exhausted from that minute effort. Finally the pain subsided to the point that he didn't feel as though red hot pokers were being driven through him. Focusing all his energy into the motion, he forced himself to roll to his side. The bolt of pure pain that shot through him ripped the breath from his lungs and a tear slid from his eye involuntarily. _Damn it, Caine. Get the hell up, man! You've been shot before. This is no different, now GET UP! _Trembling and cursing silently, he placed one hand palm down against the carpet and inch by agonizing inch forced his body up from the floor. That small victory encouraged another burst of latent strength from him and he managed to work the other hand into position to give himself more leverage to push.

XXXXX

Calleigh bit her lip as the blade bit into her wrist again, this time sending a trickle of warm crimson flowing down her arm. She pulled against his hold in a desperate bid for freedom.

"Terry…Terry listen to me. I can help you. But you've got to let me go. I'll talk to them for you. I'll help you…"

"LIAR!" Stanten screamed, spittle flying out in tiny droplets and landing in a foul spray against Calleigh's creamy skin. Again he pressed harder with the blade and smirked as the blood flow increased.

In earnest then Calleigh began struggling then against his crazed strength, twisting this way and that in an attempt to free herself from his grip. Her efforts only served to infuriate him more and he backhanded her across the mouth, splitting her lip and showering them both with red.

XXXXX

With one last herculean effort, Horatio forced his wounded body up and staggered to a half kneeling, half standing position. His pain crazed brain registered only that Calleigh was in a fight for her very life. His hand dropped weakly to his side and reached for his weapon, only to find the holster empty. Desperation clawed at him, and he gritted his teeth in a fierce grimace. In spite of the sticky warmth that began to trickle down his torso and soak through his shirt with every movement, he mentally bullied himself into stumbling upward to his feet. For a moment the room spun and he felt as though he would topple to the floor again, but he braced one bloody hand against the wall and hung on for dear life, waiting until the dizziness eased.

Still the macabre dance of life and death played out at the foot of the bed.

The effort at regaining his feet had cost Horatio dearly and he stood there panting, sweat dripping from his face and blood pooling in the floor at his feet. He could feel the life draining from his body and knew he had only precious seconds to render Calleigh what assistance he could. Gathering his failing strength, he took one step toward the struggling pair.

Two things happened simultaneously.

One, his legs rebelled against him and threw him to the floor in a heap. He groaned once and lay still.

Second, the door burst open and in sprang Mac Taylor with a gun leveled straight at Calleigh's attacker.

"Stanten, let her go!" Mac yelled.

Officer Stanten whirled around and with blinding speed flung the knife at Mac's head. Mac only barely managed to dodge as the wickedly sharp knife whizzed past his ear and buried itself to the hilt in the wall behind him.

"Terry…you have to let her go. No more lives lost, Terry. You swore to serve and protect, remember? Is this how you protect?"

Two more NYPD officers stepped into the room behind Mac, weapons drawn.

"I'll kill all of you!" the insane man screamed and jerked the gun from the back of his waistband.

Mac's gun jumped in his hand and Officer Stanten staggered but did not go down. A red stain appeared on the front of his shirt and began to spread.

A snarl of rage issued from the cruel mouth and again he tried to bring his weapon to bear on Mac.

"Terry, please don't make me do this. Just let me take you in. I promise you I'll get you the best help in the city."

"I don't need help," Stanten ground out before once more lifting his weapon and training it on Mac Taylor.

Mac fired again and this time Terry Stanten, Alfred Sager, Ted Stykes...collapsed to the floor dead.

Immediately Mac stepped away from him and knelt at Horatio's side. His fingers pressed gently against the redhead's neck and he breathed a guarded sigh of relief. There was a faint pulse.

"Where is rescue?" he yelled.

"We're here Detective," said a young paramedic as he stepped in the door, shaking snow from his hair.

Mac rose to his feet and looked the man in the eyes. "This man gets your very best, do you understand? Your very best. He cannot die. Do whatever you have to do."

"I understand, Detective."

Swiftly then Mac went to Calleigh and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. He gently lifted her bleeding arm, inspected it closely and realized that she would need stitches. Stanten had opened a long gash in her arm and it was streaming steadily.

"I'm sending you to the same hospital as Horatio, so you can be together."

Calleigh looked into his eyes and nodded, for once the fight temporarily subdued in her.

"You got him." She whispered. "You got him but…" her green eyes flicked to the prone figure of her lover lying still and pale on the floor, motionless as the paramedics prepared him for transport.

Mac took her hand in his and squeezed it briefly. "He will pull through, Calleigh. You have to believe that."

"I only hope you're right."

One of the paramedics looked up and spoke to Mac.

"Detective, we've got him stabilized and ready for transport. Where do you want him taken, Sir?"

"New York General. Ms. Duquesne will ride with Lieutenant Caine, and I will follow in a patrol car."

"Roger that." The paramedic keyed his radio and began talking as he and his partner wheeled Horatio through the door and out into the hall toward the stairs.

Mac and Calleigh followed, leaving the ME to deal with the body of the dead serial killer.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth, Calleigh paced in the waiting room, not caring about the several sets of eyes that watched her restless movements. Her sole focus was beyond the closed doors of the ER and she had thoughts for nothing save the gravely injured man whose life now rested in the hands of a surgeon she did not know. Her anxiety was magnified by the vast amount of coffee she had consumed since arriving hours ago with the ambulance.

"You will only wear yourself out with all that pacing, Ms. Duquesne." Mac's voice was a gentle reprimand.

Calleigh turned to snap off a sharp retort, but the words died on her tongue at the look of compassion on Mac's usually stern face. She forced herself to sit down beside him.

"I'm sorry Mac, but I'm very worried. He took three bullets, lost a lot of blood." She shook her head ruefully. "At home he has a reputation for being superman, but he's only human. If we lose him…" Calleigh's voice trailed off.

Mac placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a slight squeeze. "Trust my people. He's in the hands of the best trauma surgeon in New York City. "

"I only hope you're right."

Calleigh took another sip of her coffee and grimaced. The thick sweetened liquid had gone tepid. She set the cup aside

Minutes stretched into even more hours as Mac and Calleigh waited for word from the doctor. Finally, Calleigh could hardly hold her eyes open any longer. She was exhausted. Her head hurt. Her back hurt. And her wrist was beginning to burn and sting as the anesthetic from her stitches wore off. She stretched out in the uncomfortable chair, intending only to rest for a moment. The second her head touched the back of the chair, her eyelids fluttered and closed, shutting out her vision. Another moment and she was sound asleep.

Mac had to smile at the sleeping woman. What a fighter she was. No wonder Lieutenant Caine was in love with her. Tenacity, skill, intelligence and breathtaking beauty all wrapped up together made one irresistible package. _Very much like Stella…_he thought to himself and then stopped short with that idea. The raven haired beauty had no idea how he felt about her and he intended to keep it that way until he had proof positive that she felt the same.

He had just settled himself into the chair next to her and was attempting to find a comfortable position on the worn cushions when the pocket of Calleigh's jacket emitted a soft trill. Mac waited for her to stir, but she remained motionless, the sound of the phone not penetrating her exhausted slumber. Again the phone rang and this time, Mac carefully eased it out of Calleigh's pocket and flipped it open. He rose and took a several steps away from the blonde so as not to wake her.

"This is Detective Mac Taylor."

"Where's Calleigh?" came the voice from the other end.

"May I ask who I'm speaking to?" Mac asked politely.

"This is Sgt. Frank Tripp of the Miami-Dade Police department. Calleigh and H both missed their regularly scheduled check in and I wanna know what's going on."

The thick Texas drawl made Mac smile.

"Ms. Duquesne is here with me in the waiting room, sound asleep."

"Waiting room? A hospital waiting room? Why are you in the hospital? She's not hurt is she?"

"Not badly. Just a few stitches…25 to be exact."

A loud string of invectives came from the phone and Mac grimaced, holding it several inches from his ear. After a couple of seconds of listening to the tirade, Mac interrupted the angry Texan.

"Sgt. Tripp…Sgt. Tripp. If you'll let me explain…"

"Well…get on with it, man!" Frank snapped. "What are you waiting for? Why did Calleigh have to have 25 stitches? You could have sewed her whole arm back on with that many.

"That's not the worst of it, Sgt." Mac said quietly.

"What the hell do you mean that's not the worst of it?" Frank barked.

"I'm sorry, Sgt., but Lieutenant Caine was injured as well."

"How bad?"

"He took three bullets. One to the abdomen, and two to the chest. He's in surgery right now."

"Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have let him run off to New York."

"Do you want to talk to Ms. Duquesne?" Mac asked, eyeing the still sleeping woman.

"No. If she's asleep, that's the best for her. Just let her know I called and I want regular updates whenever she can. Tell her I'll put Delko in charge of the lab until further notice."

"Will do, Sgt."

XXXXX

Calleigh and Mac sat quietly discussing the case over dinner in the hospital cafeteria late that evening when Mac's phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and raised one eyebrow before answering.

"Taylor. What news, Doctor?"

At the word 'doctor' Calleigh's full attention focused on Mac's conversation, trying to interpret his facial expressions. He said very little and only once looked at Calleigh before he snapped the phone shut and stood up from the table.

"Well?" Calleigh said, growing impatient.

"He's in recovery. We can go up now if you'd like." A smile flashed briefly across Mac's face and then disappeared.

"Do you really need to ask?" Calleigh grinned.

The elevator ride seemed to take forever, but finally the car stopped and deposited them on the 18th floor. Mac preceded her out and led the way to the ICU recovery unit. He spoke quietly to the charge nurse and then turned back to Calleigh

"He's in room 1806. You go back first."

The words had barely died in the air before Calleigh was through the electronic doors and half way down the corridor. She hesitated for a moment outside the room, took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and then softly slid the glass door open and stepped inside.

Horatio lay in the bed, his entire torso swathed in white bandages. Monitors and IV's stood guard over him, steel sentinels with blinking lights and soft beeping alerts. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell slowly as though he were asleep. A single lock of hair had fallen down over his eyes and Calleigh reached to brush it aside. At her soft touch his eyes fluttered open.

_Sweetheart. _His voice was a mere rasp, roughened by the hours he'd spent breathing with the help of an oxygen mask.

"Horatio..." Leaning down, Calleigh placed a tender kiss on his lips before pulling back to look into his eyes.

_Stanten? _

"Mac got him. Shot him twice. It's over, Handsome. It's over."

_You okay? _His hand moved and grasped her wrist, lifting it from her side upward toward his lips, intending to kiss the back of her hand. His eyes narrowed when he saw the stitches that marred the soft skin of her inner forearm.

_He hurt you… oh, god I'm sorry, Sweetheart._

"No, no, my love. It wasn't your fault." Calleigh hurried to reassure him.

_Should have known better than to go out into that hall. _

"Shhhhh. Don't blame yourself. I'm okay, but what's more important is the doctor says you'll make a full recovery. None of the bullets hit vital organs. You'll recover but it will be slow." She leaned down and kissed him again. "I guess we'll just have to get used to snow for a while, won't we? I've already sent for Eric to send more of your clothes. Natalia is sending mine."

What would have been a chuckle under normal circumstances came out as a hoarse cough. But the smile on Horatio's face softened the harsh sound.

_Mmmm. Snow's not so bad when you get used to it, Sweetheart. And if the power goes out again we can always rely on body heat to stay warm._

His smile was full of intent.

"Body heat? I love the way you think, Lieutenant, Caine," she said with a smile. "I love the way you think."

FIN

**A/N This story completes the new material from Lieutenant Caine. I could have gone on several more chapters with it, but chose not to do so. I have now only two more stories to finish re-posting and then all material will be completed. It has been an indescribable pleasure to write and post for such enthusiastic readers. You have enriched my life more than I could ever express. Thank you for every single review and "story alert" and "story favorite" and email from all of you. I will treasure them for years to come.**

**Sincerely **

**Lieutenant Caine**


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